


Real Life

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-03-15
Updated: 2001-03-15
Packaged: 2018-11-20 13:11:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11336211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: My first ever M/Sk story!  Mulder and Skinner discuss the nature of real life under rather pleasant, if wet, circumstances.





	Real Life

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Real Life by Merri-Todd Webster

Real Life  
by Merri-Todd Webster  
(12 August 1999)

* * *

Walter came out onto the porch, yawning in the steep afternoon sunlight, across the lake. He'd awakened alone from an unplanned afternoon nap to find his glasses removed, his book laid aside, and his lover gone. He was not surprised to see a long slim shape gracefully cleaving the water of the lake ina steady butterfly stroke, sunlight glinting gold off wet hair. Of course Mulder would be out swimming; Walter had hardly been able to keep him out of the water so that they could do other things, like hike, cook on the grill, or drive to that little blues club in the nearest town.

The sleek wet head surfaced at the near end of the water, and an arm rose up like Excalibur to wave enthusiastically at him. Yawning despite himself, Walter waved back. He didn't beckon or call the other man, but Mulder headed up the sloping shore of the lake, slinging back his hair with both hands as he came and puffing out his lips like a horse. Walter watched him come, enjoying how graceful the man looked even walking against the drag of water that was up to his chest. Not to mention that the chest was worth looking at in and of itself. Then Mulder's navel emerged, and then his hips, and then.... Walter gulped as he saw that Mulder was naked. No Speedo. No swim trunks. Just Mulder.

Skinny dipping. The old phrase came back to mind, followed by the thought, He's not skinny a damn bit. Mulder's long, lean, elegant build was matched by a long, lean, elegant cock that swung enticingly against his thighs as he strolled back up to the porch. Walter licked his lips, feeling suddenly very dry, and, out of habit, reached to take off his glasses and rub the bridge of his nose, as he'd so often done in the office when irritation with Mulder warred with desire for him. Only his glasses were on the bedside table where Mulder had laid them, along with Walter's book,and Mulder was right here, and there was no one else around for miles.

"Hey, Walt." Mulder's voice was as warm as the sunshine.

"You're naked," Walter observed intelligently.

Mulder shrugged, sprinkling water off his elbows. "Nobody to see. And it's an incredibly gorgeous day." He smiled, a full-blown megakilowatt smile that showed large, white, even teeth. "Perfect for skinny dipping."

Before he was conscious of making the decision, Walter was shedding his cut-off jeans and ratty hemp sandals. All he wanted was to join Mulder in his nakedness, in the lake water, in that state of mind.

A few minutes later, Walter Skinner, Assistant Director of the FBI, was wallowing in water as warm as his skin with one of his subordinates, his head on Mulder's chest, Mulder's arms around his shoulders, and his bare ass on the fine sand of the lake bottom. Mulder had found a small hollow against the shoreline that supported one's back as neatly as the seat of a hot tub. With his eyes closed, all that Walter saw was a soft gold haze suffused with red. He heard only the lapping of the water, the rustling of leaves in the breeze, and the occasional calls of birds--robin, mockingbird, a nearby mourning dove's rhythmical cooing. And he felt his lover's long, clever hands playing lightly across his chest, scooping up water and drizzling it over him.

Bliss. He could literally feel his blood pressure dropping. The sensation made him dizzy, but he liked it, as a kid who's just gotten off a carousel enjoys feeling that the world is still going round in circles.

"Nice, huh?" Mulder said after a while.

"Uh-huh." Walter felt a moist kiss on the side of his neck.

"I like it here," Mulder said, after a long pause.

"I'm glad. I like it, too." Walter was aware that his voice had dropped to a drowsy murmur.

"We used to swim a lot when I was a kid," Mulder said thoughtfully. Those words were enough to arrest Walter's slide into a watery doze. The one thing Mulder *never* talked about was his childhood. Walter consciously relaxed in his lover's grasp and tried for a sleepily casual tone.

"Really?"

"Mm-hmh." A hand stroked across Walter's skin from his collarbone to the base of his cock, gliding from sunshine into water. "I mean, we summered on the Vineyard all the time. I swam every day." He chuckled. "Nothing else to do. Learned to dive. Nearly broke my neck a couple of times." He chuckled again.

"This lake must seem pretty tame to you, then. After swimming in the ocean." Not quite knowing why, Walter held his breath for the answer.

"Not really." Mulder slapped the water with one hand. "I like it a lot--just because it's natural. No smelly chlorine, no concrete sides with the depth painted in big black numbers, no fiberglass diving board for show-offs. It's *real*. I guess I've missed that. Reality. Real life."

Walter said nothing. He wanted just to listen to Mulder and learn something new about his sometimes difficult and moody lover, but his body was responding to the younger man's constant touch with a slow but insistent erection. It was no use willing his arousal away; the best he could do was ignore it as long as possible, and hope that Mulder would keep talking.

"Is this what real life is like, Walt?" Mulder was beginning to sound pretty sleepy himself, but that might have been just a ruse.

"Like what?" Walter asked carefully

"Taking a vacation with your lover. Swimming in a lake. Sending a goofy postcard to your best friend that won't get there till after you get home and seeher." Walter grinned, knowing that Mulder was grinning, too. Mulder hadn't bought Scully a postcard in the little general store in town; instead, he'd brought along something from the National Gallery gift shop, some surreal piece of modern art, and sent it off inscribed with the traditional, "Wish you were here".

"Yeah, this is real life." He shifted in his lover's arms, grunting with the effort. "But so is going to the cleaner's and turning in paperwork and paying bills and doing household stuff. And, in your case, chasing down would-be Dr. Frankensteins. It's all real."

Mulder's hand once again glided gently down Walter's body, under the water. This time it curled around his cock. "This is real, too, isn't it?" His lips moved wetly against Walter's neck.

"Yes, it is." Walter twisted around to look into eyes that had turned green and solemnly merry. "It is."

"All of it?"

"All of it."

"Good," Mulder said. His body relaxed perceptibly beneath Walter's, and they lay dozing for a long while, half in sun and half in water.

***

end


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